The passing seasons brought subtle yet profound changes to Leon's life as he began to grow, the interactions with his family deepening into meaningful connections. Though he was still confined by a toddler's body, his sharp mind from the previous life enabled him to interact with his siblings in ways that often left them surprised.
Arthur, the eldest, was a figure of steady strength and quiet authority. And on the rare occasions when one of his innumerable training sessions or lessons with their father gave him a moment to himself, he would sweep Leon up into his arms and carry him to the manor's balcony. There, the sprawling lands of House Valerian fell away in a broad swathe-the patchwork of gardens and grazing fields, the treetops of forests stretching across to the horizon. Arthur's voice was even and modulated, pointing out landmarks and explaining their importance.
"See that field there, Leon?" Arthur said one day, gesturing toward the golden expanse of wheat swaying in the wind. "That's where our people work to harvest food for the county. It's our responsibility to make sure they prosper."
Leon watched the field, then turned wide, curious eyes to his brother. Though he couldn't yet respond with words, he took in Arthur's lessons like a sponge. There was something profoundly inspiring about his eldest brother's sense of duty. Every action from Arthur spoke of honor and purpose, and Leon found himself admiring the silent strength with which he carried the weight of his future title.
The second eldest, Benedict, was a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm. Where Arthur was calm and composed, Benedict was loud and unrestrained, his laughter booming through the halls. He often scooped Leon up onto his back, carrying him on impromptu adventures around the manor grounds. Together they explored flower-laden gardens, bustling stables, and an ancient oak grove that bordered the estate.
As they wandered, Benedict would spin tales of daring knights and ferocious dragons, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "One day, Leon, we'll both be knights. We'll slay beasts, protect the weak, and become legends!" he declared, his voice brimming with unshakable confidence.
Leon clung to his brother's shoulders, listening closely. The stories made him feel kind of wonder and a budding desire to create some sort of legacy. In Benedict, Leon found the infectious zest for life that even within the world of duty, there could be room for joy and curiosity.
Cedric, the third sibling, was the scholar of the family. Apart from Benedict's wild energy, Cedric exuded an air of quiet intelligence. He more often than not found Leon in the late afternoons, settling the toddler into a comfortable spot beside him as he read aloud from books on history and mythology and all about the arcane. Though the concepts were more often than not well out of Leon's understanding at that age, Cedric had the rare talent of simplifying them, molding these most complex ideas into engaging stories.
"Once, long ago, the gods walked among mortals," Cedric explained one day, his finger tracing an illustration of a radiant deity. "They shared their magic with the people, and from that magic, the world, as we know it, was shaped."
Leon listened with wide eyes, placing his small hands on the edge of the book. The soothing tone of Cedric's voice, his thoughtful explanations, and the tales he told-lured Leon's imagination. This was not mere amusement; these were lessons in the world Leon was now part of, and Cedric became a guiding light in his early understanding of Aetheria.
Diana was a force of nature, the only elder sister. Strong-willed, fiercely independent, she lived life with such tenacity that left a mark on everyone who crossed her path. Diana saw Leon as a kindred spirit because he, too, in his own limited ways, wanted to grow and get better. She often encouraged him to be active, setting small challenges to help him strengthen his body.
"Come on, Leon, you can do it!" she cheered one day, rolling a brightly colored ball toward him. Leon, wobbling on unsteady legs, toddled after it with single-minded focus, his chubby hands reaching for the prize.
Diana clapped as he succeeded, her grin wide with pride. "That's my brother! You'll be running circles around us in no time."
Her words proved to be one of the strong motivators in Leon's life. Under her watchful eye, he found himself pushing the boundaries of his tiny body, testing its strength and balance. Diana's confidence in him was contagious, and he strove to meet her expectations.
Elara, his younger sister, was perhaps his closest companion. Born only months after him, she shared nearly every moment of his early life. The two were inseparable, sharing a crib at night and playing side by side during the day. Though neither could form coherent words yet, they communicated in their own way—a mix of coos, giggles, and the occasional tug on a sleeve or pointing finger.
Elara's bright, cheerful nature lit up any room she came into. Her laughter rang out like a bell, and her inquisitiveness made her explore every nook and cranny of their nursery. Leon found himself more and more often watching over her-a protective instinct rising within him at her falls and frustration. He vowed in silence he would always be her shield to protect her happiness intact.
The ties Leon was able to establish with his siblings were more than ties of blood or flesh; they formed a bond of love and support, strengthening Leon in ways he had never believed possible. Each sibling brought something unique into Leon's life: Arthur's sense of responsibility, Benedict's adventurous spirit, Cedric's wisdom, Diana's encouragement, and Elara's unyielding joy. Together, they created a world where Leon felt safe, but even more, inspired to grow.
As days turned to weeks and weeks into months, Leon's resolve deepened. This family had given him a home-a place to thrive. He promised himself in return to become someone who could protect and raise them, someone in whom they could put their hopes whenever they needed them. Probably for the first time in both his lives, Leon knew what it was to belong, and he cherished each and every minute of it.